Treat Me Right

Hello! It’s me.


Maybe humans don’t have to worry about this, but it turns out that a lot of people don’t treat me well. Do I look happy that Frank is scouting my personal condo for his own selfish purposes? No. All I have to say to Frank is one simple phrase … treat me right.

After Frank drained his salivary glands all over one of my toys, I decided to decimate the keepsake.


Mom thought this was an invitation to playtime. She called me up on the couch, pulled me close, and then … and then … and then … she forcefully blew her moist breath all over my face for some God forsaken reason. Now if her breath had been mint-inspired, I might not have minded. But normal breath, fortified with humidity, launched at 20 knots directly at me? No thank you.

I walked away from her, sat next to Dad, glared back toward Mom to get my point across, then said the following phrase …

Treat. Me. Right.

Mom got the message … the next day we got to take a fun walk, one where I dictated the path. Now this represented some sweet action.


Do you see the joy on my face? The unparalleled enthusiasm, dare I say a “zest” for life? That’s the response I give to folks who treat me right.

Which reminds me … Christmas is just around the corner … another opportunity to treat me right, #amirite?

5 thoughts on “Treat Me Right

  1. Yo Dash,

    Can you say “Roomba”?

    Keep tearin’ those toys apart & your name may appear on a “naughty” list. Jus sayin’.

    Better behave for the next 25 days.


  2. Wow Dash! Are you trying to make mom “pay” for being gone so long to Houston? Santa is watching you–remember the “naughty and nice ” thing???? You might not get any toys–


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